


5 times lydia said "i love you"

by santanico



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Lydia said "I love you," - and the one time that Allison finally understood what she meant by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 times lydia said "i love you"

i.

“Allison, I love you…”

What follows is a criticism. Allison smiles through it, almost pained, and doesn’t really answer to it. She appreciates the start – they’re interrupted anyway.

ii.

Lydia does a graceful spin in front of one of the full-length mirrors in the department tore. The heels are rather mundane for Lydia’s usual tastes, not high enough to make her taller than Allison, even. They’re dark brown Mary Janes, silver buckles, nearly three-inch heels. Allison stares at the bandage on Lydia’s ankle, which blends in easily against her skin unless you’re looking.

Allison is always looking.

Lydia turns, hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

Allison leans back on the sofa positioned against the wall and glances quickly around the racks of clothes, but she doesn’t recognize anyone among the few people rummaging through clearance items and overpriced dresses.

“About the shoes? I like them, they’re cute.”

Now it’s Lydia who’s staring, but her eyes are vaguely narrowed and her red lips are downturned.

“Are you okay?” Allison blinks rapidly and uncrosses her legs. There’s a measured amount of concern in Lydia’s voice that she usually doesn’t catch. It usually doesn’t come to that level of concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Allison answers, uncomfortable – she doesn’t know how to make herself look casual, and now she feels insecure about everything she’s doing, from the way she’s sitting to the curls in her hair. She tucks a few stray strands behind her ear and shrugs, attempting nonchalance. She can tell, when she looks back up at Lydia, that Lydia doesn’t buy it for a second. She keeps the wall together though. “Stop looking at me like that,” she half-laughs, “are you buying the shoes or not?”

Lydia shakes her head, hair fanning out behind her. “Not this pair. But I want you to try them on.”

Allison snorts, genuinely surprised. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who likes heels.”

Lydia sits down, too close on the sofa, removing the pumps and setting them down next to Allison’s feet. “And we wear the same size. So you can always share.”

“Fine, I’ll try them on. But that doesn’t mean I’m buying them.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, tilting her head back. “Just try them. Because I love you.”

Allison laughs and starts to tug her boots off.

iii.

“Yoga?” 

Lydia scoffs. “You don’t have to sound so incredulous.”

Allison crosses her arms and Lydia shoots daggers from her eyes, scowling as if to ask, _What the hell are you crossing your arms for?_. A smile twitches on Allison’s mouth at Lydia reaction and she sighs, leaning her head back and dropping her shoulders.

When she looks down at Lydia from beneath her eyelids she notices that Lydia looks certain, and completely confident, despite the slight scowl. She knows, as usual, that Allison will go along with her.

It isn’t that Allison is passive in her choices with Lydia – she’s aware that in some ways, it could seem like there’s a power imbalance. But Allison is happiest this way, and she knows that Lydia is too. There’s nothing to say, and nothing to change – because Allison adores the way that Lydia grins, and how she makes decisions, and how she’s everything and more.

And then there’s the part of Allison that strives only to protect Lydia.

It’s complicated.

“Hey, Allison?”

They’re seated at the school lunch table now, having followed the rest of their class after the bell rang. Allison makes a quick sweep of the cafeteria, and notices Stiles pushing Scott through the door on the other side of the room. She refocuses her gaze on Lydia, who’s not arching a perfectly bent eyebrow at her, mouth curved halfway up.

“What?” Allison adjusts her tone, shaking out her shoulders. “What’s up?”

Lydia reaches across the lunch table and takes ahold of Allison’s elbow as Allison reaches for her carton of milk. They both stop, completely still for a moment, and Allison stares and Lydia stares right back.

“I love you. Now, eat your lunch.”

Allison snorts and shakes her head. “What are you, my dad?”

They catch each other’s eyes and they both frown at the same time – maybe for different reasons. “Just eat,” Lydia says more quietly.

iv.

Five laps. Five more to go, then she’ll take a break. It’s a fair trade.

Allison doesn’t notice that Lydia’s entered the pool area until she’s on her eighth lap and she sees Lydia’s orange hair out of the corner of her eye when she stops to take a deep breath. She doesn’t think much of it, and finishes the ninth lap, and finally the tenth. It always feels like a success, the slight ache in her muscles as she climbs up the ladder in the deep end of the large pool.

She pulls her swim goggles off to make sure that it really is Lydia – and, of course, it is. She didn’t really think she was mistaken.

“Hey.”

Lydia glances up from her chair. She’s dressed up in a swimsuit, but it’s not one of the school ones, and she has a pleated skirt resting on the plastic table next to her chair. Lydia glows like she has her own light.

She smiles up at Allison as she approaches. “I saw you swimming.”

“How long have you been here?” Allison asks, unsure what to make of Lydia’s presence. The school pool is otherwise mostly empty, a few of the younger students playing on one side. Allison’s hair is dripping wet and she’s always grateful for indoor, heated pools, because her towel is on the other side of the room and she feels compelled to stop.

“Here,” Lydia says, instead of answering, pulling her own bright towel off of the back of her chair. Allison takes it hesitantly, unfolding it. She isn’t sure if it’s alright for her to wrap herself up in it, on principle. “Don’t look so confused,” Lydia laughs, “I’m not going in.”

Slowly, Allison starts to rub the towel over her hair. She then wraps it around her chest, holding it down with her own arms. “How long – I mean, what are you doing here?” Allison asks, half-repeating herself and frowning.

“I came to cheer you on. Though you probably couldn’t hear me. Will you sit down? You look so fidgety. Are you nervous?”

“I am now,” Allison laughs, shaking her head and then running a hand through her still wet hair. “How did you even know I was going to be here?” Allison asks, confused. She struggles with the decision for a second and then sits down in the chair besides Lydia’s.

“Well, I called your phone and you didn’t answer. And you were talking about how you needed to give it another go, start swimming again. I know it’s been a while. But we’ve been busy.”

There’s a tense pause – at least, to Allison it’s tense – and then Lydia lets out a breath and twists her body slightly, straightening in her chair. 

“That doesn’t matter though. You’re here, and I’m here too. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

There’s quiet for a moment, at least between the two of them.

Lydia speaks up again – “I love you.” Out of nowhere, out of the blue. 

Allison smiles, confused but appreciative, and looks back at her. “I know you do.”

“Good.”

v.

“My parents are out. Are you telling me you can’t sneak out of the house?”

“Um…” Allison leans her head back and sighs, closing her eyes for a moment and rubbing her forehead. “Yeah, I mean, it’s fine – I won’t, I won’t sneak out…” She can almost hear Lydia raising a suspicious eyebrow. “I don’t think Dad’ll…care.”

“You sure?” Lydia asks, somehow simultaneously sounding concerned and sneaky. “Well, at least you won’t have to climb through my window.”

“Do your parents not like me or something…?” Allison wonders out loud, frowning as she holds the phone between her shoulder and her ear, starting to rummage through her dresser. A sleepover could be fun; something nice to get her mind off of death. And Scott.

Lydia is genuinely nothing like Scott.

Lydia snorts on the other line. “Well, all the murder and stuff started when you moved to town, hon. They’ve noticed. They might be the only ones who’ve noticed, but…” Lydia is teasing, and Allison forces herself to smile. Sometimes it’s hard to, but Lydia always manages to say something that makes her laugh.

“You know it’s not my fault.”

“I know, but they don’t. You saved people though. Your dad should be proud.”

Allison pauses, her hand on a jacket. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Lydia says, “can you hurry up? I want you here before dark.”

Allison laughs. “You’re the boss. I’ll be there in a few, okay?”

“Good.” Lydia promptly hangs up and Allison smiles as she packs an overnight bag and jogs downstairs. Her father isn’t in the kitchen; she checks the garage, but he’s not there either. Frowning, she walks back into the kitchen, finally noticing the note on the refrigerator.

Gone out. Will be home tomorrow – see you after school! Love, Dad

Short scrawl. Her wrote it quickly.

Allison sighs and sticks the note back on the refrigerator door, turning off the lights and locking all the doors before she steps into her car.

The drive to Lydia’s house is, as always, quiet, and Allison mulls over the last few weeks nervously. She tries not to think about it too in depth though, and seeing the light in Lydia’s room when she pulls into her driveway is a comfort. It’s almost seven and the sun is setting.

Lydia greets her at the door with a bright smile. “Have you eaten?”

“No, not yet. Turns out my dad’s not even gonna be home until tomorrow, so…” She trails off, noticing Lydia watching her. She feels especially disconnected from her father since the death of her mother; and it stings to know the truth.

But Lydia isn’t about to let her think about that. “Good, because I ordered pizza.”

Allison raises her eyebrows. “Really? You’re gonna eat pizza?”

“Why not?” Lydia asks, and Allison follows her into the kitchen. Lydia’s house is big and expansive – usually Lydia visits Allison and they would just laugh and talk about normal things. Allison bites her lip and tries to ignore the pang of guilt that arises as she remembers one of the most selfish reasons as to why she hadn’t told Lydia about the werewolves; about Kate, about her parents, about Scott and Jackson and everything else tangled up in their complicated lives. It had been such a comfort, having Lydia, who was normal and brilliant and knew Latin and archaic Latin like it was the alphabet. Lydia, who flirted with her own father and taught her how to properly apply lipliner and how to make better use of mascara and fake eyelashes, even though Allison didn’t really see the point.

“You just never – never mind.”

Allison goes for the plates and Lydia opens the box. “I just got cheese though, wasn’t really sure what you wanted. There’s Coke in the fridge and you know where the water is.”

“Thanks.”

They bump into each other a few times as they move around the kitchen, despite how large it is. They both eat two pieces in relative silence; Lydia with a Coke and Allison with water.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Allison notes as she places her dish in the dishwasher and runs the sink to wash her hands.

“I am in a good mood.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re here.”

-

Lydia’s hand gently brushes Allison’s waist sometime late at night, and even though the touch is barely noticeable, it jolts Allison awake. She stars into the pitch darkness for a moment, trying to remember where she is, and blinks when she feels the hand resting on her hip. Lydia has a full-size bed and they’ve slept in it together before, but never quite this close.

Allison rolls over as her eyes adjust to the darkness, careful not to disturb Lydia who is still asleep. She always looks different when they get in bed, her make-up cleaned clear off, her hair loose and clean over her shoulders.

Lydia’s face is clear in the light sheen of the moonlight; she looks surprisingly peaceful in sleep, undisturbed by nightmares for once.

Allison isn’t thinking about her hand until it’s resting on Lydia’s face. There’s near silence for a long moment in the dark, only an owl hooting somewhere in the distance, a cool breeze against the half-open windows.

Lydia opens her eyes, but her breathing stays steady and unchanged. Allison doesn’t move her hand – they just continue staring at each other.

“Lydia…”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean…when you say you love me?”

Lydia’s lips quirk upwards slightly, and she closes her eyes again, letting out a light puff of air. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I mean besides the obvious.” Allison tries to keep the impatience out of her voice, leaving her hand on Lydia’s cheek. 

“It means I’m waiting for you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I mean…why are you waiting?”

Lydia closes her eyes and laughs softly. “Didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Say it again.”

Lydia opens her eyes and it’s immediately obvious that she’s questioning Allison. They’re lying close together – but it doesn’t have to mean anything. Lydia’s hand is still on Allison’s waist though, and Allison’s hand is on Lydia’s cheek.

“I love you.”

Allison smiles, and moves her hand from Lydia’s face to her hip, tugging her close. They meet in the middle, and Allison shuts her eyes for their first kiss.


End file.
